What She Gave Him
by WindTreesandStars
Summary: As they get ready to leave for New York, Finn receives a gift to help him when they get there.  Finchel.  One-shot.


**AN: Set on the eve of 2x22 _New York_, as the New Directions prepare to board the plane and head off to compete at Nationals.**

**I own nothing about Glee and have no connection to the show in any way.**

GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE

They were standing in line to board the plane. Thanks to Mrs. Schuester—Mrs. Ex-Schuester? He wasn't sure what to call Mr. Schue's former wife—they were all in first class, which was super-cool. This was the first time he had flown anywhere, and he figured it was a pretty good way to begin. Burt had told him that he, more than anyone, would appreciate the first class seats, because, with his height, he'd have barely fit into one in coach and would certainly have had to sit on the aisle. He wanted a window seat—he wanted to be able to take it all in, not to miss a thing. He remembered her telling him last summer about the feeling she got every time the plane came in sight of the city—what it looked like and felt like to see the faint, misty buildings and towers begin to take on more definite form, to catch the first glimpse of the many bridges spanning the rivers like magic entryways to the the Emerald City of Oz, and to see the harbor leading out to the ocean beyond. Now he would be seeing it for himself; Artie, who had flown lots of times, assured him that he was happy to take the aisle, to let the novice flyer stare out the window when they weren't working on their songs.

While it was scary to be heading into the competition without knowing exactly what they'd be singing, or who'd be doing what, it was a familiar kind of scary. It seemed like this was just the way they worked—flying by the seat of their pants, making it up as they'd go, giving it their best shot in the moment. He remembered his words when they began their last-minute preparation for that first competition sophomore year: "We're best when we're loose." Well, it had gotten them this far (it, and her solo at Regionals, that is); if they were going to go all the way, their teacher was right—it was best to stick with what worked.

He was shifting his backpack to his other shoulder once again, ticket in hand, vaguely watching his teammates gathered behind Mr. Schue, Jesse the Jerk, and the chaperones, when he felt her beside him. Coach Sylvester had really gotten it right about love; she'd found the perfect words to describe the connection he felt to _her_. It was exactly like being tethered; always feeling a tug or pull, whether faint or strong, that let him know where she was, that clued him in every time she came near. He looked down, and, while he'd prepared himself for it, knowing how excited she was certain to be as they set off on this journey, he still found himself blinded by the brilliance of her smile turned toward him.

"Hey," he said. "You ready for this?"

"I was _born_ ready, I think," she said, suddenly serious, rocking slightly forward and then back on her toes.

"I know you were" he replied, the right side of his mouth crooking up into a grin.

She smiled again, a gentler smile this time, tinged with a touch of hesitancy, as she said, "I have something for you."

He looked as she reached her hand into her bag and pulled out a long, narrow box covered with worn and faded Christmas paper—a box he had seen before. The picture of Santa on the cover looked like it was mocking him. He knew what was inside. He hadn't seen her wear it since that day in the nurse's office, the day when she told him she could finally move on with nothing to hold her back. His heart started to plummet.

"Here," she said. "Take it."

His heart now leaden, and with his limbs feeling like dead weights were attached to them all, he slowly raised his hand to grasp ahold of the box. It could only mean one thing: she was back together with Jesse; he was too late; he'd lost before he'd even begun, and the tether was about to become a form of unending torture—because he knew that whether she was with him, or with someone else, that sense of connection was never going to go away. The thought flashed into his mind, 'So, this is what karma's like. She tried to explain it to me, and now I know.'

He was still just standing there, motionless, looking down at the closed box in what had become his clenched fist, when she spoke again.

"I want you to have this . . ." she began before he cut her off.

"It was a gift. No matter who you're with now, it's still yours, Rachel. You don't need to give it back." He stopped, working harder than he ever had to hold in the emotion he was feeling, to keep it from spilling across his face. And then he heard her speak again, in the low, gentle tone of voice that she used when she was aware someone else was hurting.

"Hey, look at me," she said.

He slowly raised his eyes from his hand to her face.

"I want you to have this," she began again, seriously, intently, "while we're there. Hold on to it; keep it in your pocket or something, OK?"

"What? Why . . . I don't understand."

She reached out to lift the cover off of the box, brushing the tips of her fingers against his hand as she did so. She lifted the delicate chain of shining gold from its bed of cotton and took the box from him as she let the necklace pool into the palm of his hand.

"You're a star too, Finn. Here in Lima, there in New York City—wherever you are, you're going to shine." Her eyes were blazing with confidence and something more as they looked into his. "This is just . . . something to help remind you, if you start to forget it for even a moment."

She placed the box and lid back in her bag; her hand—so much smaller than his, but every bit as strong—began to fold his fingers over the piece of jewelry he'd so carefully picked out for her months ago. He could feel the points of the star pressing into the soft flesh of his palm. Tears threatened to well up into his eyes as he continued to gaze back at her.

"You really believe in me that much?" His voice broke, overcome with memory and emotion.

Her lips curved once again, the light in her eyes somehow growing even brighter _(how was that possible? he thought)_ as she declared with utmost conviction and surety, "More."

He watched her move, then, to stand with Kurt and Mercedes, and soon her laughter rang out. She began to bounce up and down when the flight attendant said they could begin to board. He watched her, his eyes never wavering, as she moved into and down the causeway leading to the plane. Even when she moved out of his line of sight, he could still feel her, pulling him forward, into the future that was about to begin for them all.


End file.
